


Sundance

by smirnoffmule



Category: The Authority
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-19
Updated: 2003-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smirnoffmule/pseuds/smirnoffmule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo and Midnighter share a quiet moment before sunrise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundance

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _The Shawshank Redemption_ is not actually a big film about gay love. And yes, Apollo's recall of the plot is a little off. Neither he nor I have seen it recently.

Apollo was lying some distance away from Midnighter across the cold barn floor, but Midnighter came awake abruptly as soon as he moved. He lay still for a moment, eyes closed, listening. He could tell by the stillness of the air that it wasn't yet light out. Apollo was getting to his feet, his movements cautious, but to Midnighter's enhanced ears every fall of his feet and scrape of his skin reverberated through the floor. Straw grating on concrete set his teeth on edge. There was no urgency to Apollo's movements, however, and Midnighter forced himself to relax just a tiny bit. If he held very still, he could hear Apollo's breath coming in short, warm gusts through his nostrils. He could hear the jump of saliva in Apollo's throat as he swallowed.

At some point during their flight into the sunset the previous evening, Apollo had announced they were over New England. Wide, endless farmland rolled beneath them. The few signs of human life looked tiny and ant-like and lonely.

"Did you ever see that movie, The Shawshank Redemption?" Apollo had called chattily, over the noise of the wind in their ears. "There should be a postcard from Mexico buried right by that stone wall."

"I haven't seen it," Midnighter called back.

"You should. Big film about gay love."

Midnighter made a _humph_ noise. "When did you see it?"

"I don't remember. But I did."

Midnighter had noticed a lot of their conversations were ending like this. Their brains were full of these odd bits of knowledge that trailed away into nothing. The effort of chasing memories down blind alleys made his forehead hurt at times.

"Doesn't sound like my kind of movie," Midnighter had said, and then spent an entertaining few minutes watching Apollo's tact warring with Apollo's tongue as he tried to swallow the retort that had risen in his throat.

Eventually, Apollo managed to say in a pointedly strangled tone: "I guess not."

They flew on in silence.

They had settled in one of the many old barns that lay sprawling about the fields, looking as though a good coughing fit would set them crumbling, and they wiled away the early hours of the darkness tussling on the dusty floor, sweaty with the urgency of their love-making and Apollo's fever-hot skin. They had been lovers now for three full days, and Midnighter still felt winded by the speed of it all, and the as-yet-unsounded depths of his wanting. Being with Apollo was tapping into some part of him he'd never guessed existed. It felt like someone had wrapped a strong fist round his guts and was tugging at them at odd hours of the day, giving him spasms and lurches and longings so intense it almost hurt him. In a good way. Mostly. They were rough with each other, scrambling for skin on skin, lips locked as they rolled together, rubbing and licking and sucking until they wound up spent and breathless, belly to belly, sticky with each other's sweat and spit and semen.

Then, Midnighter had pulled a strand of straw out of Apollo's hair with an amicable grunt, and rolled away from him to sleep.

Or to skate along the edge of sleep, as he usually did, alert to the slightest breath and bug fart around him, until Apollo's careful footsteps woke him up fully. Midnighter heard him go padding on the balls of his feet towards the door, heard him pause, and pictured him looking back to scrutinize Midnighter's sleeping form. Midnighter held very still, not wanting to reveal his hyper-alertness to Apollo. Apollo would only fret and apologize for waking him, and besides, he could read Midnighter like a book already, and Midnighter had no intention of helping him along. He heard the door, hanging from its hinges at a haphazard angle, creak as Apollo pushed it open. The ridges in his fingers scraped loudly on the wood.

Midnighter waited a moment to be sure Apollo had moved off, and then he sat up, blinking in the low light. It was some time just before dawn, and the edge of the air was sharp with cold. He got to his feet, brushing the dust and straw from his bare knees and picking a wayward strand from the crack of his ass. He added a blanket to his mental list of things he'd kill for. After some months on the run, it was getting to be a long list. A worryingly large proportion of his days were spent fantasizing about clean underwear.

Apollo's suit and his own lay tangled together on the floor, looking twisted and abused. Midnighter stepped over them and quietly to the door. He listened for a moment, and then, hearing nothing, he cautiously pushed it open and stepped out into the waiting air.

Outside, a low grass slope led down to a copse of tall trees. Apollo was sitting on the grass some way away with his back to the door, his skin glowing softly in the grey light. Midnighter moved towards him, stepping with caution, suddenly unsure whether or not he was intruding. He sat down behind Apollo, picking his distance with care. Close enough to acknowledge their new intimacy, but not too close. He wasn't quite ready to be casual about closeness yet. Every time he moved to touch Apollo, it set his brain-computer yammering numbers. Part of him expected Apollo to shrug him off, and another part was impassively reeling out the best ways in which to kill him.

Apollo inclined his head in Midnighter's direction to acknowledge his presence, but said nothing. The ground was cold, and Midnighter shifted himself onto his knees to keep his ass clear of it. Apollo seemed not to care. He was sitting cross-legged, solid and serene, as though he'd been planted there. Midnighter put a tentative hand out and touched his shoulder, squeezing the muscle there harder than he meant to, to compensate for his hesitance.

"You're shivering," he said, surprising himself with the dismay in his voice.

"It's cold," Apollo said.

"Yeah, but…" Midnighter's objection died away on his lips as Apollo flapped a hand in the direction he was facing. The east, Midnighter realized.

"The sun will be up soon," Apollo told him, with a note of finality in his voice, as though all questions were now answered. Midnighter was silent for a moment, trying to trace the root of the sudden catch of anger in his chest.

Apollo, of course. Apollo seemed to be the source of every emotion he had these days, the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Bendix was still looking for them; every stray breath and rustling leaf was a potential retrieval squad to come crashing down in the peaceful fields and rip away what little identity and ground they had fought so hard to hold onto. The thought of anything that might shake Apollo's unshakable presence was abhorrent to him. It irked him that Apollo had taken such great care not to wake him, that Apollo had gone outside so deliberately without him. Midnighter pictured himself skulking always at Apollo's heels, like a vicious dog. He rubbed Apollo's shoulders with the rough ball of his thumb, feeling the skin slide fluidly over the muscles. He pressed hard to show his displeasure, but Apollo leaned into his touch and turned his head to show the smile that flashed across his face like the sun coming out. Midnighter noticed that the birds in the copse had gone silent.

"You could have gotten dressed," he said eventually, reproachfully, lost for any objection that Apollo couldn't bat away with a light-hearted word.

"There's no one here," Apollo answered, a note of sadness in his voice. Midnighter figured his low charge must be making him sentimental.

"Besides," Apollo reached back and slapped Midnighter lightly on his bare thigh. Midnighter couldn't argue with that. The light was turning yellow at the edges, and Apollo's attention moved elsewhere. He never took his eyes off the horizon. Midnighter focused on Apollo's back again, smoothing his hand over the skin, trying to sooth the shiver there. He traced the bumps of Apollo's spine upwards to the nape of his neck where his hair hung, lank and greasy and alluring. He busied his fingers, finding tangles and tugging at them. It was easier to touch him with purpose.

"You know," Apollo said suddenly, "I can hear your heartbeat from here." Midnighter's fingers paused. Apollo's tone was light, but the remarked seemed loaded somehow.

"Yeah, I can hear yours."

That seemed to please Apollo. At any rate, he wriggled his shoulders comfortably against Midnighter's hands. Midnighter looked the way he was looking, above the trees. There was a white light rising there, spilling through the clouds. The vast blankness of it hurt his eyes, but he didn't look away. Apollo shifted again, impatience in his jaw line, cold in the hunch of his shoulders. Midnighter kept his eyes to the brightening east, and tried to feel what Apollo felt.

The air seemed poised, teetering as though it could go either way; into the pink dawn, or back into the grey of night. Apollo's eyes were fixed and rapt, his breath stilled in his throat. For a full minute he didn't breath at all. Midnighter wondered if it was comforting to be tied into existence by something so stable and constant as the sunrise, or whether there was always this moment of tension, catching in the chest before the day tipped out, like a rollercoaster at its highest point. You knew it was safe, but it didn't feel safe, and that was what made it so damn good. That was what made you alive. The light spread like spilt paint across the sky, and the bite of air in Midnighter's throat seemed to be pouring right from the heart of the cold, vital sun.

"There," Apollo said. Midnighter blinked. For a moment he had almost forgotten Apollo was there, but now the landscape seemed to shake itself and move on. The birds in the copse had started singing again. Midnighter tried to recall if he had ever seen the sun rise before, really seen it, and not just noted its presence as the dawn of a new day of numbers, the date clicking over in his computer-brain. Every time he thought he had sounded the depths of the worst that Bendix had done to him -- to them -- he discovered something new that he had been robbed of.

Had there been sunrises in his old life? He couldn't remember. He could remember how to clean a gun and drive a car and make a cup of coffee. He could remember that _The Shawshank Redemption_ was not a gay romp, whatever Apollo said. He seemed to _know_ a lot of things, but none of it quite belonged to him. Any personal relationship he might have once had with the world was missing. He had known that the sun did rise, but he hadn't known that it could leave him feeling empty and still. In a way then, that had been his first sunrise. The thought warmed him a little. He looked around them with new eyes, noticing the bleed of the weak yellow sunshine on the grass.

Apollo lay back with a sigh, unmindful of the cold, hard ground, and turned half-lidded, sleepy eyes to Midnighter.

"What?" he asked.

"What?" Midnighter returned, becoming aware that his face was trying to split into a grin.

"You're laughing at me," Apollo said, full of smiling reproach.

"You look like you've just come," Midnighter told him. Apollo laughed, a deep, rich, delighted laugh. He shifted position, and the twist of his hip against Midnighter's hand seemed to shoot right through to his groin. _You're teenager horny_, Midnighter scolded himself. And then, _So what?_ Bendix might have given his memories the snip, but that part of him was still here, clutching onto life and clamouring for attention, with Apollo lying out exposed and trusting under his hand.

"What does it feel like?" Midnighter asked, meaning the sunlight on Apollo's solar charged skin.

"Tingles," Apollo told him. He stretched out and closed his eyes, unhurried.

Midnighter transferred his hand to Apollo's smooth stomach, stroking it gently. He thought Apollo had fallen asleep, and he watched the sun climb, letting his hand wander with his thoughts over Apollo's skin.

After a time, Apollo sat up abruptly, and proposed they get moving, maybe anticipating Midnighter's regular early morning bout of paranoia. He hated to keep still in the daylight. It made him feel like a sitting duck, and he'd told Apollo so too many times.

"Can you fly?" Midnighter asked.

"Enough to break cloud cover. I'll charge up quick, then."

Midnighter looked around them. Beyond the bird noise, everything was still.

"Maybe we better wait a bit longer. Better safe than sorry. You know how, when I'm airborne, I like to stay that way."

Apollo's eyes crinkled at him. He shrugged and settled back down. Midnighter mocked himself quietly, mercilessly, for not being able to just say, _Nah, it's nice here. Let's stay and make out._

Apollo probably got that anyway. Midnighter could hear his heartbeat had picked up a notch, though he still stared back at the sky, apparently nonchalant. He was always careful with Midnighter, sometimes too careful, Midnighter thought, like he was trying to make friends with a nervous dog. He would just hold still and let Midnighter come to him, touch him, put his hands on him. Sometimes it irked Midnighter that Apollo had picked up so easily on his private tensions. Other times, like now, it worked out quite nicely. He trailed a finger across Apollo's navel, and bent down to kiss him there. Apollo's skin was starting to grow warmer.

Midnighter nuzzled his way up Apollo's chest, tasting and smelling the warm, unwashed sweat smell, finding it homely and comforting somehow. He rested his cheek on Apollo's chest, and looked down the length of his body to where his cock was beginning to stir.

In a fluid movement, Midnighter rolled over on top so they lay body to body, groin to groin, and Apollo reached up and planted his warming hands squarely on Midnighter's ass. Midnighter kissed him deeply, the heat of Apollo's lips a pleasant sensation like warm water on his tongue. They worked at it for a while, each shift of Apollo's body as he craned his neck sending pleasure tingles up Midnighter's spine. Apollo's hand sneaked between them, reaching for Midnighter's cock. As soon as he caught hold of it, he sat up abruptly, pushing Midnighter upright into his lap.

They re-settled there with their legs comfortably entangled, seeking out each other's lips again. Apollo's hold was so warm and strong Midnighter almost came then and there into his hand. He bit down on his lip, and Apollo responded by loosening his grip, letting his fingers play. He pressed his teasing teeth to Midnighter's lips and leaned into him, pushing him down onto his back with one firm guiding hand at the base of his spine. Midnighter landed on his shoulder blades with a slight grunt.

Apollo sat up for a moment to survey him, swooping a hand to his face to push his hair out of his eyes, and he gave Midnighter a smirk so full of longing and filthy intent that it made Midnighter's toes curl. Apollo ducked his head, quick as a darting snake, and took Midnighter's erection gently between his teeth. Midnighter snarled and tried to buck, but Apollo's apparently nonchalant hand on his hip held him still. Midnighter closed his eyes tight, let his head fall back, and let Apollo work in his own time, sucking with a warm insistence that churned in Midnighter's gut.

When he came, it was with a growl. He opened his eyes, and suddenly felt exposed, spread out on his back with his legs apart, and he sat up, blood roaring in his ears. Apollo drew away from him, looking upwards. Then, suddenly, Apollo was on his feet, a strong hand curling round Midnighter's wrist, pulling him up beside him. Midnighter just had time to register that the roaring sound was actually coming from above them, then Apollo grabbed his hand and almost yanked him off his feet as he pulled him to the cover of the trees. They stood breathless and naked under the branches, craning their necks skywards. A light aircraft was buzzing overhead, glancing white light off its windscreen and roaring like an indignant bee.

"Fuck!" Midnighter spat with a passion, as angry with himself for letting his guard down as he was with the plane for disturbing them. Apollo shot him a breathless glance and looked up again.

"It's a crop duster, or something," he said.

"Do they have those up here?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Jesus!"

"I guess we're doing it in his field."

"Fucking pervert!" Midnighter roared up through the branches, shaking his fist. It made him feel a little bit better, at least. Apollo gave a hoarse, humourless laugh.

"Do you think he saw us?" Midnighter asked. The buzzing was growing remote, but his adrenaline was still pumping.

"I don't think so," Apollo said. "The way he was coming, the barn would have hidden us. Pretty fucking close, though." Midnighter nodded sourly, still casting anxious looks skywards.

"Still," Apollo continued. "I guess we were overdue. Considering America's overcrowded skies, statistically speaking, we're lucky not to have flown right into a Boeing before now."

"Yeah, the way you fly," Midnighter grouched, but his heart wasn't in it. He suddenly felt defeated. He shook his hand free of Apollo's and stomped off a few yards, swearing loudly. Apollo ignored him and looked at the sky. All the birds had gone silent with shock.

When Midnighter had vented his fury a little, he looked back at Apollo, taking in the look of anxiety on his brow, the absentminded rubbing of his hand on his belly. He was still semi-hard. What fucking timing. All the anger drained out of Midnighter, and on impulse he went to Apollo, wrapped his arms around his waist and dropped his head against his shoulder.

"I hate this," he said into Apollo's neck. Cold air was blowing unpleasantly on his wet cock. "We could be doing this forever. Running. Hiding. Looking over our shoulders all fucking day long."

"Not forever," Apollo answered in a low voice. A prediction, or a promise, Midnighter wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt exhausted. The prospect of living on the jump like this always made his bones ache. They just weren't safe in the world.

Apollo kissed him on the cheek, suddenly. It was a rough peck, quick as a punch, but full of impulsive affection. A kiss without agenda, quite unlike the deep, intense precursors to sex they'd exchanged before. Apollo smiled at him, a smile tinged with sadness, but his eyes were bright, and insistent that Midnighter meet them.

"It won't always be like this," he said simply. Midnighter opened his mouth to reply, _No, one day we'll be dead,_ but he changed his mind. Nodded. Tried to smile. The spot on his cheek where Apollo's lips had bumped him was still warm with the flush of it. He squeezed Apollo tight.

"Guess we better lay low for a while. He'll see us if we take off now, for sure."

Apollo nodded. Midnighter had to grin to himself, a tired, cynical grin. It was lucky Apollo knew Midnighter-speak for _fuck it, let's just get laid_, or they would never get anywhere at all.

"They can just go to hell for a while," he said, instead. "Everyone can."

He walked Apollo backwards until they were backed up against the trunk of a tree. Apollo let himself be guided with just a flick of an eyebrow that said, _no arguments here_. He was exhausted too, Midnighter realized. He just hid it better. _Go to hell_, Midnighter thought at the rest of the world, and he dropped to his knees. Apollo gave a soft little sigh of acquiescence as Midnighter took him in his mouth. His hands trailed over Midnighter's head with no force to them, just a restless energy, twisting through his short-cropped hair.

Midnighter sucked at him wetly, working with his tongue to get Apollo's cock as slick as he could make it. He had no idea if he had ever done what he was about to do before, but some part of his brain seemed familiar with the theory of it at least, and he reached up to catch Apollo's hands and pull him down to the ground beside him. They tussled for a moment, legs entwined, Apollo pushing deliciously with his knee between Midnighter's legs, until Midnighter managed to work his way on top and push Apollo down flat on his back. Somehow, the knowledge that he could only muscle his way on top because Apollo let him made it all the better.

He settled himself across Apollo's crotch, wriggling against his erection, loving the way the muscles in Apollo's jaw jumped when he gulped. Midnighter reached behind him to take Apollo's warm, wet cock in his hand. Apollo sat up again, pushing without effort through Midnighter's hand on his shoulder, objecting to being flat on his back for the final act. They shuffled a little until Midnighter's back was braced against a tree, and then he lowered himself onto Apollo's lap. Apollo slid his hands under his buttocks to ease him down.

Somehow, it wasn't quite as easy as all the Apollo-centred x-rated scenarios in Midnighter's head. The wet head of Apollo's cock pressed hot and hard against his ass, but the angle was wrong. He had to hitch himself around and rearrange his hips, grunting in frustration. He met Apollo's mild eyes and let his hand on his belly sooth him for a moment, pausing to savour the tremble of anticipation in his load-bearing thighs.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered hoarsely. "How hard can this be?"

"Don't be crude," Apollo told him primly, and he spat on his own fingers and slid them around behind Midnighter's buttocks. Midnighter stifled a laugh that became a moan as Apollo slid a wet finger up his ass.

They locked lips again, and Apollo helped him find the angle to lower himself down. Midnighter groaned against Apollo's teeth as he entered. It hurt for a moment, and he made himself breathe, nipping and tugging at Apollo's lips, but the warmth of it soon filled up his belly and flowed up his arching spine. He muttered nonsense vowel sounds in Apollo's mouth. Apollo let him set his own pace, matching the lift of his hips to Midnighter's hitching chest against his chest. They stayed tongue to tongue, teeth to teeth, Midnighter fucking himself on Apollo while the sunlight pried its way coldly through the branches, chilling the sweat on their skin.

Apollo came first with a gust of warm breath on Midnighter's neck, and he let his teeth linger there for a moment, before sliding his hand down between their bodies to help Midnighter along. They pressed their foreheads together, breathing each other's breath, and Apollo squeezed him, his cock bumping hard against his belly, until he came.

"I think my ears might be bleeding," Apollo said to him some minutes later, when their breathing had stilled.

They disengaged and looked around them, surprised somehow to find the world still standing. Midnighter pretended to check for him.

"No, you're good."

"Are you good?" Midnighter swiped a hand over Apollo's stomach. It came away sticky with come.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm good."

"Guess we better had go."

"I guess."

They moved back to the barn, furtive under the open sky, and untangled their suits from each other.


End file.
